


Precipice

by theherocomplex



Series: Commander Eliza Shepard [5]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, ME2, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one thought it was a goodbye. They thought it was a “see you soon”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precipice

When the waiter came back around, smiling and with a fresh carafe of wine neatly balanced between his hands, Hannah waved him on with a smile. Two glasses were her usual limit, but tonight was an exception to her rules. The fact that she needed to be back aboard her ship in less than four hours be damned; she was having dinner with her daughter, and despite the circumstances,  she intended to _enjoy_ it. 

Across the table, Shepard accepted another glass with murmured thanks, but didn’t drink. She tapped her glass with a long finger, frowning, eyes far away, and didn’t hear Hannah clearing her throat.  

“ _Sweetie_ ,” said Hannah, a little sternly, and grinned when Shepard looked up, guilt flickering through her gaze before she smiled back. Somewhere under the pulled-back hair and BDUs lurked the girl Shepard used to be: the sleeping three-year-old, the twelve-year-old constantly surprised by her too-long arms and legs, the eighteen-year-old who was only lovely in the right light. No matter her age, Hannah mused with inevitable homesickness for that girl, Shepard still jumped when her mother used _that_ tone.  

“Sorry, Mom. Lost in thought. You were saying?”  

“I wasn’t saying anything.” She nodded at Shepard’s left arm. “War wounds bothering you?” 

Shepard glanced down at her arm, where an inflatable cast stretched from wrist to shoulder. “This? No, not really. The ossification treatments hurt worse than actually breaking my elbow — I had too much adrenalin floating around to notice it at first.” She shifted, grimacing. “Bruised ribs, though. Whole different story.” 

Hannah huffed, blinking fast at a new sting in her eyes and covering it by drinking half her glass at a swallow. Fascinating, really: the urge to use her teeth and nails to rip apart anything that hurt her daughter never faded. “You and your squad were lucky to get away with so little. I saw what was left of the Council chamber and — well. I’m not going to complain you came back in one piece, my girl.” 

Shepard smiled wanly, and Hannah stepped firmly on the impulse to coddle her. _She’s twenty-nine, Hannah. And a bona-fide war hero now. The savior of the Citadel doesn’t need coddling._  

The thought that Shepard might want coddling crossed her mind, but the middle of the most crowded restaurant on the Citadel was not the place to offer it. They had a private booth, far away from bright, prying eyes, and the wait staff had strict orders to keep the press away, but their old habits died hard.

Instead, she reached out and squeezed her daughter’s hand. Shepard squeezed back, without hesitation.  

“How bad was it?”  

Shepard twitched. Nothing so large or wasteful as to be noticeable; Hannah would bet twenty years’ pay on there only being two people in the galaxy who would notice, and of those two, one was on Thessia, and the other was her. Shepard had control of herself again almost instantly, and her mouth took a new, grim set that twisted her split lips. 

“It was…about as bad as you could expect, Mom. I disobeyed the Council, the brass — God, I stole the _Normandy_! And all to follow a goddamn dream to some dead planet.” Shepard shook her head. “I staked everything on being right, and the worst part was knowing that even if I _was_ right, I might still be too late. And that I’d get my whole crew killed. How’s that for a best-case scenario?” She picked up her glass with her free hand, but didn’t drink. “I could do everything right and still fail.” 

Hannah fought a shudder. Six years ago, Shepard had said nearly those same words, in a voice that sounded like it was caught in a snowstorm, while the doctors tried to rebuild the acid-eaten skin on her back.  

 _Don’t let this be your fatal flaw, my girl,_ Hannah thought, but did not say _. Too much responsibility will poison you._  

And that poison would months to work through Shepard’s system, months in which Shepard would close herself off like wings of an old house, presenting only the front door and one room beyond. They had barely talked for six months after Akuze. Shepard hadn’t avoided her calls, not exactly, but — 

_Not again._

“But you weren’t wrong,” said Hannah, squeezing Shepard’s hand again. “Your crew lived, and you saved millions. I call that a win.”  

Shepard’s smile surprised her. “Yeah,” she said, squeezing back till Hannah’s fingers ached. “I do too, Mom. Only downside is that I didn’t get to punch Udina.”  

Hannah burst out laughing. “Oh, sweetie, half the Navy is jealous of Anderson now. And the other half just doesn’t know they are. You’ll get your chance.”

“A few more years working with him and I’ll probably just shoot him on sight.” Shepard sighed. “I can’t believe I recommended him for Councilor, but Anderson would never have forgiven me if I picked him.” 

“Damn right, he’d be terrible at it.” Unable to help herself, Hannah reached across the table and brushed her knuckles against Shepard’s cheek. Her daughter leaned into her fingers, dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks as her eyes fluttered closed. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Hannah choked out, wishing, for one awful, unsteady moment, that Shepard was three again, or twelve, or eighteen — any age that would allow her mother to bundle her away and let her heal in private. “When I heard about you stealing the _Normandy_ — and then the Citadel…” 

“Mom.” Shepard trapped Hannah’s hand against her cheek. “It’s okay. We’re both fine.” Her voice came out strained and thick. “It’s a win, right? We won this one. We’re still here.” Shepard swallowed, and her hand closed tight over Hannah’s. “Oh, God — it’s so good to see you, Mom, I feel like shit and I’m just glad you’re here.” 

Hannah smiled. She wouldn’t cry — not here, not now — because the house was still open, and light was still allowed through the windows. So she simply stared at her daughter, who stared back, both of them happy to rest, for a moment, in the silence. 

“So,” Hannah said. “What’s the Spectre got for an encore?” 

This time, when Shepard smiled, it turned her whole face to stark angles, cheekbones harsh in the dim light, teeth bared — a wolf's smile, sly and proud. “Oh, it’s a good one. I’m taking the _Normandy_ hunting.”  

***  

Lamia’s face filled the viewscreen. Normally, Shepard would have found the sight comforting, but Lamia’s features were twisted, hateful and ugly with rage. 

“Tevos is a goddess-damned _idiot_ ,” she snarled, and Shepard took a step back from the viewscreen. “After what she did to you — ignoring you, insulting you, and now she’s sending you off to fight _geth_? It’s a wonder she can _breathe_ on her own. I’ve met pyjaks with more common sense. Better fashion sense, too.”  

Shepard snickered. “Glad to see your priorities are still in place, Lamia.”  

Lamia waved her hand, still scowling. “There’s no excuse for bad decisions or dresses. The fact that Tevos relies on both shows a terrifying lack of comptency.” Her voice dropped into a glacial calm Shepard knew all too well. “You saved their lives, and now they’re trying to discredit you,” Lamia said. “The geth are only a sliver of the real threat, and the least the Council could do is privately support you. You were _right_ , after all.”  

“They’re trying to distance themselves from my decisions. It’s politics, I get it.” Shepard ran her fingers through her wet hair. Lamia had an unerring sense of timing, and always managed to call just as Shepard was about to get into or got out of the shower. “I _am_ a bit of a liability. Batarians aren’t happy about the whole Terra Nova incident.”  

“The batarians are never happy.” Lamia sniffed. “Besides, Balak was a terrorist. Anyone with half a brain understands what you did wasn’t racially motivated. Which leaves out --”  

“Tevos,” Shepard finished with Lamia. They laughed together, and some of the ice-swept fury melted out of Lamia’s face. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you, Shepard, but I wanted you and your mother to have time together.” Lamia smoothed the front of her dress — more exquisite by half than anything Tevos had ever worn, Shepard noted with an internal smile. “I thought of you, constantly.”  

“It’s fine, Lamia. Thank you.” Shepard smiled at the viewscreen. “It was a circus anyways. Mom and I barely got a meal together, with all the press around, but it was nice.”  

“More than nice, I’m sure,” said Lamia, disapprovingly — no doubt at what she felt was a disappointing emotional display.  

“More than nice,” Shepard agreed. “She was the only person I wanted to see — well, other than you, but —“ 

Lamia waved Shepard’s words away. “I understand, Shepard. Just because I have no daughters — well.” She smiled, a small lift of her lips. “I want to see you, though,” she continued, in a softer voice. “You should come to Thessia, on your next leave. A few days in my house will do you a great deal of good, and I can fix all of the horrible things you’ve done to your posture. Though,” she said, frowning down at Shepard, “I think it’ll take more than a few days to correct _that._ ” 

Shepard laughed, the sound almost too boisterous for her cabin. “Sorry to disappoint, Lamia, but it’s hard to maintain correct form in full armor. It’s heavy stuff. So I lose a little control for efficiency.”  

“Spoken like a Vanguard.” Lamia sighed. “I trained you better than that, Shepard.”  

“Yes, Lamia.” The temptation to stick her tongue out swept through Shepard and fled, mercifully brief. Whatever satisfaction she’d get out of the gesture now wasn’t worth the punishment Lamia would inflict the next time they saw each other. And, as Shepard had learned a long time ago, the asari could be _very_ patient when waiting to carry out their grudges. 

 _They can afford to be_.  

“What else have you got going on?” Shepard asked, to head off Lamia before a lecture on form and discipline could arrive. “Besides judging Tevos’ entire life?”  

“Talking, mostly,” answered Lamia. “There are some matriarchs out there with some very interesting ideas — ideas that the rest of them are laughing at — but my interest is piqued.” 

“Anything in particular stick out?” Shepard reached for a towel, still relishing the lack of an ache in her elbow or ribs, and started to dry her hair. 

“Getting our maidens out of merc squads and bars and getting them trained as commandos instead, building our own mass relays — heretical stuff.”  

Shepard paused, eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. “I’ll say. Who’s leading those charges?”  

“One matriarch in particular, Aethyta. Loud, almost…vulgar, but I like her. She’s honest. Passionate. Not an ounce of delicacy in her body, though.” Lamia shrugged. “I’ve only met with her once, but we have plans to talk again on Ilium in a few months.” Her face brightened. “Oh, Shepard! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. If you’re in the Terminus —“ 

“I think I’ll be able to find some time for leave,” said Shepard. “Isn’t Ilium a hub for information brokers? I might even be able to make the visit look official. Send me your dates, and I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Of course.” Lamia beamed. “It’ll be so good to see you again, Shepard.” 

 “You too, Lamia. Seeing you _and_ Mom in the same year? Totally worth staring down a Reaper.” 

“Uh, Commander? Sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready to prep for the relay.”  

Shepard did her best not to sigh. “Thank you, Joker. I’ll be right up.” She turned her eyes back to the viewscreen, and gave Lamia a wistful smile. “Duty calls.” 

“It always does.” Lamia tilted her head. Light from the window fell gracefully over her face, turning her sky to sapphire and her eyes to gold. Shepard felt the usual stab of envy — Lamia was still the most beautiful person she’d ever seen — and let it fade away into nostalgia. “Where are you headed now, if you can tell me?”  

“Omega Nebula,” Shepard said. Her movements were no secret, but she felt a compulsion to keep the exact location quiet. “A few reports of missing ships have come through. We’re going to check them out. Routine, probably. Lots of pirates out here.”  

Lamia nodded, her face serious. “Regardless, be careful, Shepard. You remember the proverbs about over-confidence.” 

“Which ones?” Shepard grinned. “I remember _thousands._ ” 

Lamia gave her an unimpressed look. “Please. At most, there were a few dozen. But the only one you need to remember is: _don’t be._ ”  

Shepard nodded. “On that, we agree.”  

*** 

 _Shepard,_  

 _I hear I missed some big holiday for humans. Something about presents and large decorated trees. Whatever it was, I hope you had a good one._  

 _Just wanted to let you know I’m still in the middle of wrapping things up here. Another two months should do it. The Dr. Saleon mess is cleaned up, but I’ve still got a dozen cases on my desk. Boring stuff, mostly. Smugglers, drug dealers. Nothing like chasing down Saren, but don’t worry — I’m not rushing. If a thing’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well, right?_  

 _Still trying to figure out the difference between_ right _and_ best _. Looks like you’ll have to give me another lesson when I’m done here._  

 _That is, if you still want a turian on your crew._  

 _Be safe out there._  

_G._

 

_Garrus,_

_Christmas. It’s called Christmas. And thank you._

_Things don’t feel right without you grousing about how I take care of my guns or about how bad the food is. Tali can’t wait for you to come back — she says I won’t be able to avoid getting good dextro rations with the two of you on board. I thought I_ was _buying the good stuff._  

 _Wrex is talking about joining us again — says Tuchanka’s boring by comparison to what I find. I think that’s a compliment._  

_You don’t have to wait till you’re done to learn. I think you’re figuring it out pretty well on your own. But I’m always happy to talk things through._

_As long as I’ve got a ship, there’s a place for you on it._

_You be safe, too._

_S._  

 _***_  

“Are you sure those are safe for consumption, Commander?” Liara winced inwardly — a habit she never seemed to be fully rid of — when Shepard cut her a glare across the table. She meant to stop calling Shepard “Commander” — Shepard had an odd sort of etiquette, and one of its rules was her squad call her “Shepard” — but try as Liara might, the word still slipped out. 

Shepard’s face softened almost immediately, and she pushed the foil package toward Liara. “They’re fine, I promise. Just a little freezer-burned. See?” She popped one of the wrinkled, purple objects into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “They’re just grapes, Liara. Very popular Earth fruit. We use them for wine, too.” 

Liara gave the package a dubious look, but picked one of the fruit out with the tips of her fingers. It felt rubbery _and_ dry, and looked less appetizing than Tali’s rations, but with Shepard watching, she couldn’t say no. So she placed it on her tongue and chewed, waiting for disaster. 

None came, but she got a hint of juice. Sweet, thin, with a sharp edge that could turn cloying or tart. Only a hint, and then she was left to chew a flavorless piece of rubber. 

“Yeah.” Shepard sighed across the table. “They’re fine to eat, but they’re not exactly good. Next time we stop by Noveria, we’ll get real grapes. Lorik Qui’in still owes me a favor.” 

Liara swallowed, hiding her grimace. “You’ll use a favor to get _fruit_?” she asked, all too aware of how naive she sounded.  

“ _Fresh_ fruit,” said Shepard, pointing a long finger at Liara. “Big difference. And you’ll agree with me when we get it.” She leaned back in her chair, eyes on the ceiling. “Maybe they’ll have strawberries, too.” 

From his seat next to Liara, Kaidan laughed. “Not cheese, Shepard? Figured you’d cash in any favors you have to get some cheddar here in the mess.” 

“Oh, God, I’d sell the _Normandy_ for some cheddar. Or feta.” Shepard smiled longingly. “But it seems like a bit too much to ask for fruit _and_ cheese.” 

Liara quietly pushed the package back toward Shepard with the tips of her fingers. She hoped only to be unobtrusive, not unnoticed. The Comm — Shepard noticed everything. “You did save his company,” she said, gratified when Kaidan nodded in agreement. “I think he’d find providing you with food a small price to pay.”  

“Let’s hope so, because that’s our next stop after we’re done in this system.” Shepard glanced down her nose at Liara. “Speaking of prices to pay, you two wouldn’t know anything about who ate my last wedge of Brie, would you?”  

Liara stopped herself from smirking down at her hands. She knew _exactly_ who, but she planned on holding on to that information as long as possible. Until it reached its highest price. 

Shepard must have caught some tiny change in Liara’s expression, because she pounced, smiling like a child, and under her surprise, Liara felt a pulse of wonder. She was no beauty, not even by human standards, but she made people want to look at her, and now, smiling like that — 

The _Normandy_ was slammed to the side, and Liara would have fallen out of her chair if Kaidan hadn’t caught her arm and pulled her back. For a sick moment, the ship’s internal gravity died, and Liara’s stomach swooped. 

“Shepard?” Kaidan hadn’t let go of her arm, and Liara leaned against him, grateful under her fear for his steady warmth. “What the hell was that?” 

Shepard already had her hand at her ear, listening with an utterly blank expression. “Copy that, Pressly. Sound general quarters.”  

The siren blasted through Liara’s head, tightening the skin on her neck, twisting in her belly. “Oh, Goddess, Shepard, what is it?” She hated herself for sounding so frightened, so young — but the siren kept going, and now the ship was screaming, one long death note. Kaidan dragged her away, toward their lockers and their hardsuits, toward safety, but Liara turned her head at the last minute, just as flames roared out of the shrieking bulkhead. 

The last time Liara saw her, Shepard was running for the emergency beacon, fire biting at her heels. 


End file.
